


Impossible

by Treetart



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, But they get written out quickly, Cinderella AU, M/M, Minor Character Death, The powers are not exactly true to how they should be, but oh well, some OCs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-09-25 12:34:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9820748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Treetart/pseuds/Treetart
Summary: A thinly veiled Cinderella AU for Charles and Erik. Charles is Cinderella, Erik is the prince. I'm watching and reading like four different versions and mashing them together. I am not a writer so enjoy this mess as it unfolds.More characters will be added to the list as I figure out who is going to be who.Yo, I know this prologue is a mess but please stick with me, the first chapter is better.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Prologue 
> 
> Warning: Character death.

There was once, many years ago, a gentleman who had a charming lady for his wife. They had one son only, who was very dutiful to his parents. But while he was still very young, his mother died, to the grief of her husband and son. After a time, the little boy's father married another woman. 

“Oh, Paulette,” Charles exclaimed to his maid with delight, “it feels just like Christmas! I get a mother and siblings all in one day!” He bounced excited around his room, awaiting the arrival of his father. His maid chased him, attempting to clean dirt off his face.

“Yes, it's going to be very exciting here, what with the Baroness and all...” his maid said, grabbing his arm “Oh, hold still! The master deserves some happiness after all this time...” She wiped the rest of the dirt off of his face. “... bringing up a child on his own.” Charles gazed out the window that faced the front of the house and the road.

“She must be lovely.” He said in awe. “I hope she likes me.”

“She'll love you.” Paulette reassured him. “Just be the little angel I know is in there somewhere!” She poked at his ribs, making Charles squeal with glee. “And don't chew on the bones at dinner and give yourself away.”

A banging sound made them both look at Charles' window, which was being pelted with rocks. Charles opened it and saw his friend, Raven.

“Child, your father arrives any moment!” Paulette reminded him.

“Raven, I told you! Not today!” Charles yelled down.

“You look like a baron!” She called back.

“That's what I am, halfwit!” Charles laughed.

“Yeah, but today you look it!” 

“Baron or not, I can still whip you!” Charles taunted.

“Hah!” Raven challenged.

Charles rushed down the stairs to meet his friend around the back of the manor, and hopefully win their on going mud war. Along the main road to the house rode a man on a horse, and behind him came a large carriage.

“Look lively, it's the master!” Maurice, the butler, called to the servants of the manor. As the man approached, he smiled at his attendants and hopped off his horse. “Welcome home, Master Xavier. I see you have brought us a baroness.”

Master Xavier laughed. “I have brought you an entire household, Maurice. But I seem to be missing a son?”

The door to the carriage opens, revealing a jeweled boot with a large heel, and a similarly elegant white gown. All of this attached to a striking woman with long blonde hair, in well maintained curls falling past her shoulders. 

“Oh... Brian,” The woman said with almost sticky sweet praise, “it's absolutely charming, really.”

“Papa!” Charles yelled, running from around the side of the house, covered in mud.

His father laughed and lifted him in the air. “Oh, look at you, just as I left. I'll wager your friend Raven is around here.”

“No, sir! I slaughtered her!” Charles claimed gleefully. Raven appeared around the corner, barely recognizable from the coating of mud she attained from Charles. Brian laughed.

“Well, so you did. I had hoped to present a little man,” his father said, tweaking Charles' nose. “I suppose you'll have to do. Charles, may I present... The Baroness Emma Frost, and her children, Cain and Angel.”

“Hello, Charles. At last we meet. Your father speaks of nothing else.” Emma cooed. “Children, say hello to your new stepbrother.” The children called their greetings. 

*~*~*~*~*

Sometime later, as Charles' father sat with him in bed, he handed him a book. 

“What is it?” Charles asked, examining the new book by candle light.

“Utopia.” His father explained, “It means paradise. This may be a bit thick for an eight-year-old, but we could add it to our library.”

“Will you read some?” Charles asked eagerly.

“It's been a very long day.” His father sighed.

“And you're a husband now.” Charles commented.

“Yes,” his father smiled. "I'm a husband. But a father first and for ever. We've been two peas in a pod, you and I, for a long time. I supposed this will take some getting used to.”

“Did you see the way they ate their supper?” Charles exclaimed. “It was perfect! Like a dance!”

“Do you like them?” His father asked, hopeful.

“Very much.” Charles smiled up at his father.

“Good, good. Because I have to go Avignon in a week.” His father sighed.

“But you just got back!” Charles protested

“I know.”

“For how long?”

“Only... three weeks”

“One.” Charles bargained.

“Two.”

“One!”

“Two... All right, one.” His father conceded. “Come on, go to sleep.” Brian kissed his son's forehead. “Sleep tight.”

The next week, the group ate breakfast in silence as they waited for the master of the house to join them on his final morning. When he walked into the room, he burst into laughter.

“I have never seen so many gloomy faces around here! I shall be back in a week.” He squeezed the shoulder of his new wife and kissed her on the cheek.

“Then go,” Emma sighed, “The sooner you leave, the sooner we can celebrate your return.”

“Perhaps by then, the three of you will know each other better.” Brian said to the children, and turning to Charles he emphasized, “I'm counting on you to teach them the ropes around here. The Baroness isn't used to getting her hands dirty.” Charles glanced at his stepmothers outfit for the day, another white gown. It seemed her entire wardrobe consisted only of the color. He nodded to his father. Brian clapped his sons shoulder and kissed him on the forehead. The group made their way to the front door to see him off.

“Thank you, Maurice.” Brian said to the butler.

“Safe journey, master.” Maurice replied. Brian got onto his horse and started down the cobbled path.

“Come along, children. Back to your lessons.” Emma called, turning back into the house.

“Wait! It's tradition.” Charles yelled back to them. “He always waves at the gate.” His step family paused where they were inside the door step and waited.

As Charles turned back around to see his father, Brian clutched his chest and fell off his horse.

“Papa!” Charles screamed, running down the lane to his father. Emma followed closely behind. Charles sobbed as he reached his father's collapsed form.

“Papa!” Charles grabbed his fathers hand, pulling it to his chest.

“Brian..” Emma was close to tears as she kneeled down next to her husband. His father looked up at him.

“I – I love you.” he said, cupping his sons cheek. “I love you.” Charles sobbed even harder as his fathers hand lost it's hold.

“No.” Emma breathed. Charles flung himself onto his father's body.

“Papa!” he sobbed.

“Brian. Brian! You cannot leave me here.” Emma cried out. “You cannot leave me here!”

Paulette and the rest of the household had followed. Paulette attempted to pull Charles off of his father's still body. 

“Leave me! Leave me!” Charles cried, but was eventually pulled into Paulette's arms. “Papa, please come back!” Charles said, still reaching for his father.

It would be twelve years before anyone else would enter his life. Now Charles' step mother grew proud and haughty, and her two grown-up children as disagreeable as herself; so the poor boy found everything at home changed for the worse. All of the attendants were sent away. While his friend Raven lived somewhat nearby, her visits were not welcomed by the Baroness, leaving Charles alone among his new family. Whatever love that could have been sown between Charles and his stepmother was long lost the day his father died.


	2. A Charming Stranger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Impossible, for a plain yellow pumpkin to become a golden carriage.  
> Impossible, for a plain country bumpkin and a prince to join in marriage.
> 
> A slipper, made of glass, is just a shoe. And dreamers never make the dream come true.
> 
> Impossible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate to throw Angel under the bus with her characterization here, but SOMEONE had to be a step sister.
> 
> My dudes, it took me two days to write this, please enjoy. Zero edits. 
> 
> If you've seen the 1997 version of Cinderella you will see right through my method of plot.

The marketplace itself was almost more than a boy from the country could take, even though his step family had recently insisted on going into town at least once a week. Charles blinked his eyes at the bright colors. Piles of orange and yellow fruits, hangings of bright blue and green fabrics, ropes of gold and bronze chains. Few others were staring as openly as he was. Merchants shoved their goods under people's noses, shouting for them to buy. Dancers moved through the street, holding out hats and bags in the hopes of tips. Chickens were mostly contained within pens, but several had escaped and were roaming freely within the marketplace. Charles' step mother lead the family through the town, shopping for increasingly eccentric clothing and accessories.

“Come along, children.” Emma called. Still wearing an outfit of pure white, which she had maintained through the years. The only change in her attire had been right after Charles' father died, when she wore bands of black with every article of clothing for a year. Cain and Angel moved to follow their mother quickly. Charles lagged behind, weighed down from the many boxes and bags he carried consisting of Emma's and his step sibling's purchases.

“Hurry up!” Angel sneered back to Charles, turning her nose up at him before going into the next shop with her mother.

 “Move it.” Cain shoved Charles aside, knocking a few of the packages to the ground. Charles sighed. He wasn't surprised by this behavior anymore, he just found it frustrating. As he picked up the fallen packages, he listened in on the conversation inside. Although he was too far away too hear them, he had found that he could hear what people were thinking if he focused on them. This telepathy had been getting stronger as the years went on. He had first noticed it a few years ago when he responded to something Cain had been thinking rather loudly, but apparently not actually spoken. It had caused some confusion at the time, but he was able to play it off well. Now, he was able to hear the thoughts spanning across the town, as long as he put his mind to it. His siblings were inside, arguing over a cloak. He could see what it looked like through their thoughts. Bright green with pink trim, adorned with lots of sequins and flower embroidery. Charles thought it was ridiculous, but Cain and Angel were having a spat over it. Angel pulled it from Cain's grasps and put it on.

“What do you think, mother?” Angel asked, spinning with the cloak around her as her mother glanced over. Charles could feel a tinge of disgust in his step mother's thoughts, but she hid it well from her children.

“It's certainly not the sort of thing you see every day.” She said evenly. While she may not agree with her children's eccentric fashion sense, she never discouraged them. Cain pulled it off of his sister.

“I saw it first! How do you think it looks on me, mother?” Cain insisted.

Angel gagged. “Awful!”

“I didn't ask you!”

“How can a mother choose between two such extraordinary children?” Emma replied before turning her attention on other items in the shop.

Charles brought his attention back to the world around him. Across the cobbled pathway a puppet show was being performed for a small group of eager children. A puppet of a herald and of a prince were currently on the stage. While they were not of great quality, they were well maintained and staple characters of the weekly puppet show in the marketplace.

“Quiet now! Here comes the prince!” The herald puppet called, using a stick to gesture to the other puppet.

“Have any of you seen Lady Gwendoline? Wouldn't you tell me where to find her?” The puppet of the prince asked the children, who eagerly started explaining to the prince that she had just left the scene and where she was headed. The show was always charming, and Charles was glad that he had a moment alone to enjoy it, without his siblings bickering. It didn't last long.

Cain still had the cloak around him, and called for Charles' attention. “Charles. Charles!”

Pulling his eyes away from the puppets, Charles replied “Yes?”

“What do you think? Does it look better on me?” Cain swished the cloak in front of him, but Angel managed to pull it off of him.

 “Or me?” Angel asked. Her mind clearly stated that she was the rightful owner of this cloak, while Cain seemed to feel immense jealously over it. Charles guessed that Cain only wanted it because Angel liked it so much.

“Well,” Charles began hesitantly, he hated being pulled into these arguments. They never ended well for him. “I don't know much about cloaks but, I don't think it flatters either one of you.” Both of his step siblings inhaled sharply, clearly offended. Charles felt their minds loudly proclaiming that he was wrong, with a hint of them assuming that he meant it as an affront to their looks in general. Charles sighed, knowing the anger that would be aimed towards him for the rest of the day had begun.

“What did you ask him for?!” Angel said angrily to Cain, starting to storm back into the shop. Her feelings were mostly for her hurt at a possible assault to her looks. While she was beautiful, she was incredibly self conscious over the wings tattooed into her skin. Charles knew that they were wings, but Angel convinced anyone she met that they were an unfortunate birthmark. Any sort of physical or mental ability were uncommon in their world, and physical ones ended up being more of a spectacle. Angel did not want to become the talk of the town and be forced to perform tricks for others. Her mother and brother knew of her ability. Cain was very jealous of the topic, having been born without any abilities at all. Charles made sure not to let on to his step family that he had any telepathic abilities. He did not want to be used any more than he already had been around the manor.

“He doesn't know anything about cloaks! He said so himself!” Cain followed his sister, pulling on the hem of the cloak. “Give it to me!”

“It's mine!” Angel held tightly on to the hood of the cloak, forcing it away from Cain. There was a loud ripping noise. They had separated the cloak from its hood. Charles made a face. Now they had to live with that hideous thing. His step siblings stared at the cloaks separated pieces in shock.

“Mother!!” They both yelled, rushing back inside.They were stuck in the doorway for a moment, having both tried to go into the building at the same time, but Angel eventually shouldered her way past Cain. Charles shook his head and returned his attention back to the puppet show. 

“…. holding you in my arms again! Be my bride Lady Gwendoline, and I will pledge to you, my love for all eternity!” The prince was proclaiming his love to the princess. Charles smiled. He always liked hearing these stories. A violinist started playing a romantic melody for the show and someone started singing nearby.

“ _The sweetest sound I'll ever hear, is still inside my head..._ ” Her voice was beautiful. Charles looked on longingly at the scene before him. So many families were out today, enjoying the pockets of entertainment to be found throughout the cobbled streets. He still remembered his childhood with his father, and his good friend Raven, who he had not seen in many years now. A father and his daughter were laughing and dancing nearby. It was hard for Charles to be sad with so many happy minds around.

“ _The kindest words I'll ever know are waiting to be said._ ” A few people were dancing now, mostly parents with their children, but a few couples who had been nearby joined in as well.

“ _The most entrancing sight of all, is yet for me to see. And the dearest love in all the world, is waiting somewhere for me. Is waiting somewhere, somewhere for me....._ ”

Emma, Cain, and Angel finally exited the store. The cloak, now a cape and a hood, clearly having been purchased. Cain in the cape, and Angel in the hood. Cain was clearly pleased with himself for getting more fabric than his sister.

“Charles!” Emma called, thrusting her newly acquired bags towards him. As Charles attempted to pile the bags into his arms, Angel huffed out her displeasure.

“Have you ever seen such a lazy boy in your life?”

“Who are you calling lazy?” Cain exclaimed, having not been paying attention to who Angel was referring to.

“Not you, stupid. Charles.” Angel rolled her eyes and followed her mother towards the center of town.

“Oh. Who are you calling stupid?” Cain quickly pursued them. Charles attempted to keep pace with them, but the sizes of the boxes he carried now blocked his view ahead, forcing him to walk slowly and sideways while trying not to run into anyone. 

Charles could still hear the violinist and the singer as he trailed behind the shoppers, although it did not matter how far away they wandered. Charles could keep his focus on the entertainers with his mind and keep the music with him. He started to sing quietly to himself. It was easier to work on his powers while he was in town. The more thoughts that surrounded him allowed him to work on his focus and range. He would often mentally follow a few people through their daily chores as something to pass the time, since he was not allowed by his step family to follow them into any store.

Even though his father had been the Baron of the household, and by right of being the first born he should legally keep his titles, the Baroness had elected to ignore this. His father never liked going into town, often citing that he was always traveling for politics and work that when he was home, he would much rather spend time with his son there. Because of this, Charles was rather unknown among the town and the elite in the area as actually being an Xavier. While the Baroness had married into the name, it was known that her husband had died, and that her own children were from a previous marriage. Emma was quiet talented at keeping Charles out of conversations among other nobles, and it seemed to have been forgotten that Brian Xavier had ever had a child at all. Charles had gone from Baron-to-be to manservant very quickly. Charles felt that it was not worth the fight to regain his title. Who would speak for him? Any servant of the manor was long since gone, and he had no way of contacting them. And what good was the word of Raven? He had not seen her in years, and one farm girl's word against a Baroness would not stand. He would be much happier just living on his own, away from his eccentric family. However, despite being twenty years old, he did not see a way out until his step siblings were married off. Emma would most likely move into whichever child ended up with a wealthier family. She had stated from the beginning that she felt that the Xavier manor was more of a country house compared to what she was used to. Charles had seen in her mind what she was used to, and he could not believe that houses came in that size. What would anyone do with that much space? While Cain matched him in years, Angel was a few years younger. She was more expected to marry soon than the boys were. Men were often given more time to settle into their estates before marrying, whereas Angel should ideally be married and settled within the next year.

“ _The sweetest sounds I'll ever hear, are still inside my head. The kindest words I'll ever know are waiting to be said. The most entrancing sight of all, is yet for me to see. And the dearest love in all the world, is waiting somewhere for me. Is waiting somewhere.... is waiting somewhere._ ”

Charles became so wrapped up in his thoughts, and on keeping tabs on the vocalist a good distance behind their group now, he did not even see that his party had changed direction some time ago. The sheer amount of packages that he carried also prevented him from seeing the carriage barreling its way down the road towards him. A flicker of panic in the mind of the coachman alerted Charles to the situation, and he threw the packages down and leaped out of the way, falling to the ground rather harder than he had intended.

“Are you alright, sir?” A man had come over to help him pick up all of the packages that had been scattered by the carriage.

“Yes. I'm fine... I think.” Charles was too distracted by the carriage in the distance to really look at the man helping him. It was a Royal carriage. What would any Royal be doing this far into town without any announcement or fanfare? Even if they had come in quietly, the townspeople would have caused a stir as soon as anyone spotted a member of the Royal family. The man helping Charles examined the hood of the torn cloak that Angel was now the proud owner of with a raised eyebrow. He handed it to Charles.

“Here you go. Just like those Royals, isn't it? Not caring if they're in anybody's way.” The man scuffed.

“Well, I'm sure they were going somewhere very important.” Charles replied, gathering the last of the items on the ground into a somewhat manageable pile for him to pick up.

“I doubt it.” The man laughed.

Charles finally looked over at the kind stranger, meeting the mans eyes. 

 _Oh, boy._ Charles thought. This was no ordinary stranger. While his clothes appeared to be plain, they were clearly well made and tailored to his fit frame, and was it a frame. Charles politely schooled his eyes and focused on the gentleman's face, although he was not sure if this helped him. 

 _Oh no, he's hot._ The man was devastatingly handsome. Short brown hair and ice blue eyes, with the squarest jaw Charles had ever seen. When the man smiled, Charles felt like a fish meeting a shark for the first time. Charles laughed nervously.

“Thanks. Thanks for your help.” Charles picked up the packages and stood up, attempting to put some distance between himself and the man before he managed to say anything stupid. 

“Wait! What's your name?” The man called, clearly not deterred by Charles' escape plan.

“Charles.” he mumbled, not turning around but certainly halting his retreat.

“I beg your pardon?” The man asked, having not heard Charles clearly, which to be fair was his intent.

Charles turned around. “Charles.” he said with a grimace. He knew how he looked just now. It was not like he ever tried to look nice when they went into town, knowing that no one would pay any notice to him. He was covered in dirt and still had some cinder on his face from sitting by the fire in the kitchen. Not the best first impression to be sure, dropping a load of packages and looking a mess.

“Ahh, Charles. I like it.” The man said with a smile.

 _And I could melt._ Charles thought, hopefully not too loudly.

“It grows on you, I guess. Excuse me.” Charles said with a nod to the man, turning away.

The man followed him. “Tell me, Charles, what would a man have to do to find himself in your good graces?”

Charles glanced at him. “Who wants to know?" 

“Let's just say, a charming stranger.” The man said with a grin. Charles smiled back. He would not read this man's mind just yet. He seemed to be a lot of fun and Charles did not want to ruin it.

“This charming stranger seems pretty sure of himself. But, he'd have to get to know me a lot better than some boy he just met on the street.” Charles continued to walk towards the center of the marketplace, where he is sure his step mother wandered to. The man skipped ahead of him and started walking backwards, keeping his eyes on Charles.

“Oh, but he'd like to. Very much.” The man ran right into a wooden flower cart. Charles stared at him and held back a giggle. The man looked rightly embarrassed. 

“Oh, my.” Charles said, schooling the laughter away from his face. He continued to walk towards a shop Emma might be in. The man followed.

“I'm not sure I want to meet this stranger,” Charles taunted, knowing the 'charming stranger' was still following him. “I doubt if he has any idea how someone should be treated.”

“Like royalty, I suppose.” The man suggested. Charles stopped and looked at him, having a good indication of what royalty were treated like and how they treated others from his step family.

“No. Like a person, with kindness and respect.”

The man made a face at Charles. “You're not like most people, are you?”

Charles frowned. Could people really tell he was a mutant without revealing his powers? Was it just in his personality?

“What do you mean?” 

“Oh, nothing I... I didn't mean to offend you.” The man seemed sincere. Without looking too far, Charles poked along the edge of the mans mental awareness. He was sincere. 

Charles considered the apology. If he did not accept it, it would be much easier to walk away from this man and continue on his day. But of course, Charles would not take the easy way out.

“It's alright. It's just that I've led a pretty sheltered life.” Charles smiled. 

His smile was returned. “So have I.”

“Really?” Charles doubted this.

“Every day the same old routine..” The man began.

“Until you want to run away...” Charles continued for him. 

“And never come back...” They said at the same time. The men smiled at each other. Could this charming stranger actually relate to Charles so well? He hoped so. The man was just about to ask him something when Emma's presence flickered into Charles awareness.

“I thought I told you never to talk to strangers!” Emma was clearly angered. She had forbidden him from interacting with anyone while she was around, and Charles had never considered for an instant that someone would even attempt to interact with him on their own free will.

“I'm so sorry, Step Mother.” Charles moved towards her, packages clutched closely to his chest.

“I hope I see you again, Charles.” The stranger said with a smile. He turned and sauntered down the street, and almost instantly disappeared into the crowd.

 _Bye_. Charles half called out with his mind. He did not actually want the man to hear him, but it made him feel better knowing that he could have.

“Well, hurry up with those packages, what are you doing?” Emma called, turning on her heel and heading towards the street where their carriage had been placed. Her two children followed quickly, and Charles could hear them thinking about how stupid Charles had been to disobey their mother and talk to anyone. Charles looked back down the street where the man had disappeared.

 _The most entrancing sight of all is yet for me to see.... And the dearest love in all the world, is waiting somewhere for me. Is waiting somewhere..._  

“Charles!” Emma yelled to him, already a good distance away. Charles turned and made his way towards her.

 

_Somewhere for me...._

 


	3. A Prince In Disguise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At last we meet the charming stranger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is a shorty, but an update is better than nothing.

From a distance, the blue tiles on the many roofs of the castle were notable against the the common grays and dark greens of the surrounding mountains and forest. Inside the palace, richly colored lilac tiles and golden columns lined the hall Prince Erik Lehnsherr walked down, followed closely by his bodyguard, Logan. Logan had watched over Erik since he was a child, often more of a nanny than a body guard. The man's gruff appearance betrayed the soft heart the Legnsherr's knew he possessed. Logan was very off putting to most people. It helped that the man's skeleton was made of adamantium, and that he could produced claws from the knuckles of his hands. Good heart or not, Logan's main purpose was to protect Erik at all costs. The Lehnsherr's only had one child, and were very invested in his life. Politics aside, Erik's parents loved him very much, and only wanted the best for him. However, this only seemed to fuel Erik's continuous outings into the surrounding town and its marketplace. He found the palace walls to be restricting and longed for more than his political career that was required of him. As he took off yet another disguise that he wore into town, Logan was hot on his heels holding the attire expected of a prince.

“Why. Why the disguise again, your highness, after I beg you?” Logan demanded. Even though Logan was a full foot shorter than Erik, he held a commanding, rather angry, presence. But having know Logan his entire life, Erik smiled.

“I had a wonderful time today, Logan. No one treated me like a prince. What a relief to be among real people.” Erik sighed happily and pulled on the white shirt handed to him, and began to button the cuffs.

“Yes, can I tell you something? Real people are not all they're cracked up to me. Look at me, I am a real person. Does that tell you anything?” Logan tugged on Erik's collar and threw the vest at him. He was more concerned than angry. He did not like it when Erik got away from him, and the fact that he had been doing it every day for a week got Logan very frustrated. Erik had gone back to the same market every day since he had met Charles, hoping to run into him again, not that Logan knew anything about this plan.

“Believe me,” Logan continued, “they are all out there wishing they could be you.”

“Because they have no idea what it's really like.” Erik furrowed his eyebrows as he finished buttoning his vest.

“Help me out here. You are rich, you live in a gorgeous palace, you have beautiful women throwing themselves at your feet. Is there something I am not getting?” Logan laughed.

“I have no life of my own. Everything's decided for me: where I go, what I do, and who I see.” They continued down the hall. Erik was now fully dressed and began to settle his hair into a somewhat presentable manner. The hallway ended in an elaborate door that eventually lead to his parents sitting room, Erik reached out a hand and turned the metal knob while still several feet away. Logan glared at him. While Erik's family, and Logan, knew of Erik's powers, they kept it a secret among the palace. It was not worth the struggle of attempting to marry off an annoying Erik, let alone one known to have mutant abilities. Erik smiled cheekily and gave Logan a wink.

“Your highness, this disappearing thing has got to stop. It is too dangerous.” Logan rehashed an on going argument, arising anytime Logan was not with Erik where ever he went.

“I was perfectly safe, Logan.”

“I am not worried about you, I am worried about me. I cannot keep lying to your mother, they have laws against that.”

Erik clapped Logan on the shoulder, smiling at him, and walked towards his parents sitting room.

“If he wants to kill me why does he not throw me off the castle and get it over with?” Logan commented, mostly too himself. He followed the boy down the hall, but at a distance. Erik reached a curtain guarded by two men that acted as a minor barrier between the rest of the castle and their Majesties private rooms. Erik nodded to the men and he walked by, brushing the fabric out of his way.

“You wanted to see me, mother?” Erik inquired. His mother was at her desk, scribbling on to a large roll of paper an ever growing list. His father sat at another desk with a chess set in front of him, a few pieces were missing, but he was playing a game against himself and the progress was slow.

“Erik, darling, where have you been? Your father and I were just talking about you.” Edie Lehnsherr smiled up at her son. Rising from her chair, she lifted her finely woven silk gown out of her way so that it would not get tangled on any furniture. She kissed her sons' cheeks.

“Your mother was talking, I was listening.” Jakob Lehnsherr commented from his chair. Erik smiled.

“Alright, what's going on?”

“Just planning a little get together, nothing fancy, just family.” His mother started. Erik walked over to her desk to look at the scroll she had been writing in.

“And a few close friends...” She continued.

“Uh huh.” Erik remarked, lifting up the scroll. He picked up one end, letting the other fall to the ground, revealing an incredibly long list of names. He glanced up at his mother with contempt.

“....and all of the eligible young people in the kingdom.” She finished.

“Mother.” Erik sighed. He knew something like this was going to happen again. His mother had been attempting to throw yet another ball for the past five months, but he had been able to find conflicting plans each time: retreating to the mountains, going to the lake for the week, anything that held a suitable ground for not being able to attend a ball. His mother had become more and more insistent on him finding someone and getting married in the past year. While he used to find the elegant dances enjoyable, that was when they were once a year. Last year had had four alone, and he only managed to dodge two of them. However, he was rapidly approaching his twenty sixth birthday, and a prince, let alone the only child of the Royal family, was typically expected to have been married by now.

“We're only talking about four or five hundred at the most.” His mother bargained. The list Erik held definitely held more than five hundred names, and considering that most of them just listed family names, he knew there would be a lot more. The invitation stated that all persons who were of a marrying age were invited within each family along with their parents.

“Mother, you can't keep doing this to me.”

“What?! Jakob, what's he saying?”

“He's saying: he doesn't want to have another ball.” His father sighed, still focused on his chess game.

“No, he's not.” His mother laughed and waved her hand dismissively towards her husband. She looked back at her son. Erik gave her a firm expression of dissatisfaction. Edie laughed, thinking he was being silly. She slowly realized that Erik, in fact, did not want to have yet another ball where he would be thrown at any eligible young person in attendance in the hopes that he would marry someone, anyone. Well, not anyone. But certainly someone who made the list of wealthy families with a good reputation in court, and preferably someone his parents had already been in contact with before. Really it was the same thirty families over and over again. Erik had been parade through countless balls where he was introduced over and over again to singles who fit the description of what his mother hoped would be the ideal candidate that he would choose to marry.

“Here we go.” Erik said with a roll of his eyes as his mother put her hand on her chest with a taken back expression. Erik started moving a small decorative metal orb around the room to keep himself distracted. His mother could be exasperating when she was on a roll.

“Jakob, you must reason with him.” Edie insisted, walking over to her husband, who was still very focused on his chess game. He hummed his agreement, not having heard what she said.

“Jakob.” Edie said again. Jakob glanced up at his wife, then to his son, and sighed. Standing up, he walked over to Erik and put his hand on his sons shoulder.

“Erik, it's really, very simple. All your mother and I want is for you to be happy.”

“Happiness has nothing to do with it!” Edie interjected, and immediately regretted her wording at the expression on her husbands face.

“Of course we want you to be happy, but you do have certain obligations....” Edie began.

With a laugh, Jakob said “What your mother is trying to say is: we think it's time you choose a bride and produced an heir. “ Erik gave his father an impatient look and Jakob added, “Or a consort and we can figure something out.” Jakob tapped the orb that Erik had sent twirling around in large figure eights about the room as it passed him, and raised an eyebrow at his son. Erik set the orb back where it belonged on a shelf.

“Someday soon this entire kingdom will be yours.” Edie said, hoping to impress how important it was to her that she got to see her son married and settled.

“Not that soon.” Jakob commented. Edie smiled at him.

“Look, all I'm asking is that you let me choose a someone for myself. In my own way.” Erik paced around the room, he moved a chess piece on the board, playing the next logical move for his father.

“I guess I have this silly idea that I want to be in love when I get married.” Erik smiled up at his parents. “Like you were.”

The truth be told, his parents had had an arranged marriage set up by the previous king, Erik's grandfather, Magnus. Edie had been a princess of a neighboring kingdom, and they had not met each other until two days before their wedding. However, it was love at first sight and the couple had been happy to enter into the marriage.

His father returned his warm smile. “That's all we want for you too, son.”

“Yes, darling. But there's nothing saying you can't fall in love at the ball---” His mother began

Erik turned to leave the room. “They haven't heard a word I've said.” he commented to himself as he walked back out through the curtains in the doorway.

“---It happens all the time! Now, I should go through the menus with you --- Where's he going?” Edie remarked, turning to her husband.

“Could it have been something we said?” Jakob replied sarcastically, sitting back down to his chessboard. Edie pursed her lips and spun around to the curtains in the doorway.

“Logan! Logan.” She called, knowing Erik's bodyguard would still be hanging around.

“Yes, your Majesty.” Logan replied evenly.

“Proclamation from the Prince.” Edie began, handing Logan a scroll and pen. Logan accepted them but looked at her questionably.

“Excuse me, your Majesty, I couldn't help overhearing and I have to say I don't think the prince sounded....” Logan trailed off when he saw the persistent look on the Queen's face and set the scroll on the desk, indicating that he was ready to write.

“Thank you.” Edie said to him. “Take this down. His Royal Highness, Erik Christopher Rupert Michael Alexander Magnus Maxwell Eisenhardt ---

“Eisenhardt?” Logan commented, he had not heard that name in awhile. Many proclamations from their Majesties included their first name, a few middles names, and their last name. For the Queen to be including all of her son's birth names must mean she really meant business. Throwing as many royal names into a proclamation such as this would only attract more attention from potential suitors, as it reminded them just how prestigious the royal family is.

“Eisenhardt. Gregory James – he'll thank us for it later – is giving a ball!"

 


	4. The Prince Is Giving A Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Logan brings the prince's proclamation to town, and we hear from the little family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whattup I have no idea what i'm doing and here's some more characters that may or may not show up again.
> 
> Please let me know if you see mistakes. I don't have a beta reader and I'm typically posting these at 3 in the morning.
> 
> Shout out to Sabiha for being super on top of my typing issues :)

Two days after the Queen wrote the proclamation of the ball in the Prince's name, Logan found himself in the marketplace with official copies to be posted and handed out to families of those specifically invited. While the Queen had included many families by name, she had written only those who she specifically approved of, should Prince Erik choose to marry one of their children. However, the proclamation itself invites any eligible young person in the kingdom, because at this point the King and Queen were ready to not be picky about their son's choices. They felt it was plenty time enough for him to be married, and yet, he did not seem to have anyone even in mind let alone engaged in conversation with.

Logan did not mind coming to the marketplace, knowing full well that Erik was trapped in his studies by his own mother, and would be hard pressed to escape her sight. Logan had already handed out a few copies of the proclamation to larger stores, where high traffic would bring its information to many customers of the businesses. He put several in clothing and tailor shops, as well as the baker, who probably saw the most people of any shop. He was making his way towards the center of the market when Azazel, who handled most of the information handed down from the castle to the townspeople.

“Azazel, finally.” Logan handed a large bag of letters for the man to have delivered to specific families. Azazel smirked at the heft of the bag, raising an arched, dark eyebrow at Logan.

“Another ball, is it?” The man guessed correctly. Logan grunted. He did not want to be at any of the balls given by the royal family, but his obligations to Erik forced him into all of the royal functions.  
  
“Have you seen Armando?” Logan inquired. He had a list of requests from the castle of supplies for the event. Armando had a good head on his shoulders, and handled the stress event planning well, adapting to whatever was thrown at him. Including last minute details, which the Queen always seemed to come up with. Although the King had sent a few their way before, and they were always more complicated than any of the Queen's requests.

“I think he's at the butchers, he mentioned having a feeling that it had been too long since you asked him to do anything for the castle. He wanted to warn them, I think.” Azazel handed Logan a cigar from his pocket, which Logan accepted gratefully. After a couple of puffs, Logan looked up at Azazel.

“You guys are invited this time too, you know. Basically anyone in the kingdom the Queen could possibly shove at her son.”

“Not me, that's for sure.” Azazel laughed.

“You should come anyhow, keep me distracted from ringing the Prince's throat whenever he dismisses someone.” Logan nodded to the man and headed towards the center of town to nail the most formal copy of the proclamation to the main bulletin board. He could already feel the buzz of the crowd around him, knowing that anyone in a royal uniform was bound to bring some important information, and by important information, they hoped it was a social event. He already had a few people not so discreetly following him. He planned to make a bee line to the butchers' shop after pinning the scroll up, not wanting to be caught in the inevitable crowd that will swarm the posting. He adjusted the bag on his shoulder, holding the lists of supplies and a few more copies of the proclamation, just in case. Logan reached the board and grabbed the strongest tack there. Centering the scroll, he slammed the pin into the top, and grabbed two more tacks to hold the bottom edges down. That done, he turned around and found a small crowd pretending to not be over eager for his departure. The townsfolk knew of his disagreeable nature, and tried not to get on his bad side. Logan cleared his throat.

“Proclamation from the prince.” He nodded to a few familiar faces, wealthy children out spending their families money.

“The prince is giving a ball.” He said, and walked determinedly towards the butchers, as about twenty people rushed to the sign past him. He chuckled at their excited squeals. People were very predictable.

He found Armando standing just outside of the butcher's shop, hands in pockets, watching the crowd around the bullet board.

"I knew it. It had been far too long since the last one." Armando smiled, accepting the lists of orders from Logan.

"Silky sateen in aubergine and a red? In case someone spills?" he guessed, continuing down the long list of clothing, food, and decorations. While the castle certainly had its own store of items, they did not have nearly enough for the amount of people invited this time around, and were pulling out all of the stocks. Armando stuck his head in the side door of the butcher's shop.

"It's just as I told you, surfeits of meat, sides of ham, and lots of beef filets. Some marbleized steaks, a few racks of lamb, and plenty of veal. We should have enough of everything." The butcher's nodded and got to work. Luckily someone, Logan assumed Armando, had suggested they make some large orders of product earlier on in the week. It was like Armando lived in the castle and heard all of the Queen's plans.

"200 orchids, 400 poppies, 600 roses, 800 lilies. My goodness, we're going to have some hay fever in that ballroom."

"I don't think it's for the same room, they're readying the outside patios and the large area around that swan fountain out front." Logan commented. Armando was delighted. 

"I'll let Alex know. I told him to get plenty of flowers in just in case." Armando nodded to Logan and hurried off to the florist shop, who happened to be owned by his husband, Alex. Logan looked back around at the scene in front of him. Dozens of people chattered on about the ball and where they needed to buy their outfits from and what colors they should have. 

"The prince is giving a ball." Logan rolled his eyes.

 

 

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

 

It had been a week and a half since Charles a had met that charming stranger in the marketplace, and since then his stepmother had not brought him along with her or her children on the last visit to town. Most likely due to his behavior on their last occasion there. Charles did not mind. That meant that he had had half a day to himself, without his step siblings nagging at him or Emma making up more and more ridiculous chores for him to complete. However, it did not last long. Having realized they would have to carry all of their purchases themselves, Angel and Cain quickly regretted their trip into town and convinced their mother to go back home. This brought a rather grumpy group back much faster than Charles would have preferred.

 _Charles, have you dusted the rafters?_ He recalled her asking. _Dusted the rafters?_ He thought to himself, _as if that were some kind of daily requirement?_

The truth be told he had only ever dusted the rafters twice in his life, and both times Emma had been present. Other occasions where she asked such ridiculous requests before leaving the house were ignored for time to himself on his small cot in the kitchen, with his coveted pile of books his father had left him. He did not know why, but he always felt very compelled to do any of the chores Emma asked him whenever she was in the house, perhaps because she did have almost complete power over his homelessness and food supply. But whenever she left, he did not have a care in the world. Sure, he would do some obvious things: dishes, laundry, general dusting of the house. He did not want to let on to his procrastination. He somehow managed to get away with not doing these tasks, and had been getting less easily pushed around by her as he got older. Charles reasoned that to be due to his age. _It was much easier to bully a child than it was an adult,_ he guessed.

Charles currently found himself lounging on his small cot, reading the last book his father ever gave him, _Utopia_. It was truly a lovely book. He was not sure if he loved it for itself, or for the fact that it came from his father. Charles was awake much earlier than the rest of the house, for it was the only time he really had to himself, without having to busy himself with a task to have the other leave him alone. He knew they would want to go into town today, and he would for sure be dragged along with them. Charles felt the sensation of someone approaching the house. It did not feel like their normal mail carrier. He sensed that the messenger carried an important message. Charles shut his book and hid it under a loose board at the base of his cot, which was set into a shelving unit filled with kitchenware. He hurried to the side entrance of the house, hoping to catch up before the messenger knocked on their door and woke the household.

The messenger was a handsome man with dark hair, dressed in nice clothing. Charles thought he looked vaguely familiar, but he could not honestly say from where. Perhaps he had seen him around town a lot? He could not be sure. Charles walked quickly to the path leading to the main entrance.

“Good morning, sir, what brings you to our home?” Charles asked kindly, attempting to radiate happy and kind thoughts with his mind towards the man. The messenger cracked a sly grin.

“Well, hello.” he practically purred. The man took Charles' hand and kissed it. Charles blushed, he was not used to this sort of treatment. “I am Azazel. Are you the man of the house, or are you the man to be?” Azazel raised his eyebrows suggestively. _Ah, Azazel, the town messenger._ Charles pulled his hand back, embarrassed and not exactly sure if he wanted this mans advances. He was handsome, but, not exactly Charles' type.

“In a manner of speaking. Do you have something for me?” Charles changed the subject, hoping to get whatever message needed to be delivered and out of there before this man started properly courting him.

“Of course. Proclamation from the prince.” Azazel gave a fanciful bow, clearly showing off, and handed Charles a wax sealed envelope. Charles opened it immediately.

 

 

 

> **The Royal Family**
> 
> **of**
> 
> **Lehnsherr**

> **Proclamation from the Prince**
> 
> **His Royal Highness,**
> 
> **Erik Christopher Rupert Michael**
> 
> **Alexander Magnus Maxwell**
> 
> **Eisenhardt Gregory James,**
> 
>  
> 
> **Son of her Majesty,**
> 
> **Queen Edie Charlotte**
> 
> **Ermantrude Guinevere Maizy**

 

 

“Maizy?” Charles looked up from the letter.

“Maizy.” Azazel shrugged.

 

 

 

> **Marguerite Ann.**
> 
> **Son of His Caveat,**
> 
> **King Jakob Maximillian**
> 
> **Godfrey Ladislav Leopold Sydney**
> 
> **Is giving a ball.**

 

 

 _Quiet a mouthful for such a short message._ There was more to the letter, detailing the when, and where the ball was to be held, although the latter was quiet obvious. The letter also included somewhat of a dress code.

 _Royal Colors Suggested?_ Charles could only assumed the prince might have a favorite color within the realm of blue and purple. The ball would be held in three days time, barely enough time to have your own seamstress make you a new outfit, let alone the influx of orders that will be placed, now that the entire town knows there will be a ball. Everyone wanted to look their best, just in case they were chosen by the prince. To just dance with the prince would be an honor to anyone invited. The bottom of the message, he noted, mentioned that all eligible, _Read: Of marrying age_ Charles smirked, young people in the kingdom were invited. Charles knew his families' house was receiving its own hand delivered message because of the wealthy background of his father, and of the wealth Emma had brought in when she married in.

“I hope to see you there?” Azazel questioned, clearly implying that he wanted to accompany him. Charles gave him a tight smile.

“We shall see. Have a good day.” Charles nodded to him and turned to go back in through the kitchen. Charles now had the problem of resealing the letter before Emma saw it. She would not approve of him opening such a letter, especially one with such royal directness.

In the kitchen, Charles stoked the fire, reboiling water and heating up a small letter opener so that he could melt the wax and reseal the message. Looking out the window, he could see Azazel's carriage heading back down the cobbled drive. That would certainly wake the others, horses were not known for their quietness on stone. He carefully drew the heated knife on the backside of the wax disk. He had done this many times before, and it was a simple task as long as one did not tear the seal when opening it. The letter sealed, moved out of the kitchen to put it on the table in the main entrance way. He could feel his step family waking up. Emma appeared to be already ready to head down to the lower level to question him about the carriage. Charles hurried back to the kitchen to begin breakfast. Eggs were simple and easy to come by with the chickens they kept at the manor. They also cooked very quickly, allowing Charles to smother complaints before they arise. Charles now felt Emma descending the stairs to the main level.

“Charles? Who was that just leaving?” She called. Charles came out of the kitchen.

“A messenger. I've placed the letter on the table in the foyer.” He gave her a small smile and went back into the kitchen. He kept a tab on her in his mind as he finished making three sets of omelettes and three teas. He noticed a hint of surprise, and slight excitement. His step mother had always been a lot harder to read than anyone else he had met. But that may have been due to his own lack of will in pressing the issue around her. He honestly did not know if he really wanted to hear her true opinion of him.

“Angel! Cain! Come downstairs! I have something important to tell you.” Emma moved into the living room and sat rather smugly on the couch. She knew they were only receiving a hand delivered message because of the Queen had them on a short list of approved families with a good amount of wealth and standing in society.

“What is it, mother?” Angel called sleepily as she descended the stairs, Cain following a few steps behind her. Emma smiled.

“They've spread the message far and wide, the Prince is giving a ball.”

The children gasped, rushing down the remaining steps and coming to their mother's side.

“They say he finally wants to find a suitor, and he may find one at the ball.”

“Oh, if only he'd propose to me.” Angel sighed dreamily.

“I wish that he'd propose to me!” Cain retorted, really only wanting whatever his sister did.

“Just leave the hair and clothes to me. We shall go into town today for new outfits for the both of you. We need to make a statement. The invitation suggests the royal colors, I want you to pick out anything but. Everyone will be wearing purples and blues and I want my children to stand out.” Emma handed the letter for her children to look over. Cain looked at it with a confused expression.

“But this says --” Emma shushed her son. He continued his question in a whisper. Not that it mattered, since Charles could hear what they were thinking perfectly well. “-- this says that all eligible young people in the kingdom are invited. You don't think they mean---”

“I know perfectly well who they mean.” Emma said firmly. She did not want Charles to know about this event. Charles considered her reasoning, if he did not know about it while they were in town, he could not buy anything to wear to it. Not that it mattered, he had not planned on going in the first place.

 _Although it would be nice,_ A small part of him said, _to finally go to a ball? That you have always been invited to and never allowed to go? To rightfully go as a member of your station?_

Charles squashed the feeling down. He knew Emma would never allow him to go, proper clothes or not. Preventing him from even considering it would just be icing on the cake for her. She could later claim that he could not attend due to his unsightly attire, and not because she did not want him to. Unfortunately, for once this was making Charles actually want to go. Charles walked out of the kitchen, causing a shuffling of paper as they moved the proclamation out of view.

“Breakfast is ready.” He announced, and moved to start on some laundry.

“Good.” Emma said. “Eat quickly, children, we need to head off to the market as soon as possible. Charles, hurry up with that laundry. You're coming with us. Someone needs to carry our bags.”

 _The Prince is giving a ball._ Charles sighed to himself.

 

 


	5. A Nice Old Lady and A Jealous Acquaintance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles follows Angel around on her trip, and meets a nice old lady.
> 
> Erik is a jealous little butt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Real life had been filled with a wedding for my best friend and my birthday (which was yesterday :D )
> 
> At last, an update.

A few hours later Charles found himself tailing behind his step-family, already holding a few bags, but nothing too ridiculous as of yet. Although they were about to walk into an accessories shop, so things could quickly go downhill from this store alone. While they had planned on leaving right after breakfast, Angel had caused a stir when she announced that she would be wearing a dress that accented her wings, indicating that they would be out for the ball. Many people would have extravagant accents added to their attire for the ball, and Emma considered her idea and had so far not ruled against it. If they found something that made Angel's wings look like an ornament and not actually attached to her, she might attract more notice and possibly catch the eye of the prince. Cain was furious. He could not believe how unfair his mother was being, “letting” Angel have an “advantage” like that. It took Emma awhile to calm him down, eventually reassuring him that she would find Cain his own item of intrigue for the prince to gaze at him for.

Charles purposefully kept his eyes away from all the clothing stores. While he had a case of mild jealousy of attending the ball, it was only due to the fact that they were trying to keep the invitation a secret from him. Everyone in town talked non-stop about the upcoming ball, but Emma carefully steered every conversation away from the possibility of Charles attending. Charles maintained the ruse that he assumed it was yet another ball sent as an invite only, but it was tempting to shove one of the many flyers around town in their face. Charles was not as stupid as his step-family assumed him to be. Charles felt a strong surge of delight from Angel. She must have found something that would allow her to easily disguise her wings no matter what dress style she chose. A sour note from Cain informed Charles that Cain had not yet found anything to attract attention to himself. Although Charles thought the dark cloud above him might do the trick. Angel rushed out of the shop, a beautiful flower crown on top of her head, with a waterfall of ribbons and even more flowers down her back. It would certainly do the trick, and she would possibly be the only girl there to look like a fairy. Charles considering telling her that it made her look more like a child than an eligible bachelorette, but decided against it. Angel was far too pleased with herself, and Charles was not that cruel of a person.

“What do you think, Charles?” Angel positively beamed. Charles grinned from the delight he felt from her.

“Lovely.” he assured her. Angel smiled at him and skipped off to the nearest dress shop. While they did not have time to have a dress completely custom made, they could certainly get something fitted from the stock many stores kept. The stores were packed. While many families had their own tailors, they could not help buying the latest styles available in town. However, this worked in Emma and the children's favor. Most people would be bring home dresses to be fitted by their own personal tailors, while they would have their fitted in store. All of the stores had brought on more staff to keep up with demand over the few days before the ball. They were used to such short notice.

Charles followed Angel into the store for some reason, not really thinking about his previous attempt at concealing his eyes. They were in an off the beaten path store, carrying out of date styles that may or may not flatter the wearer considering today's styles. They were sure to find something in the children's eccentric tastes. Charles stood in a corner, observing Angel as she moved through several bright pink and purple dresses. Reaching out with his mind, he felt Emma and Cain entering another store that carried some fine suits, if not in current fashion. Emma always enforced the children to not follow the main styles of the kingdom, maintaining the idea of standing out amongst the crowd. Satisfied with the knowledge as to where they were, Charles relaxed, putting the bags down for a moment.

_I don't suppose it will matter too much if I just look..._ Charles eyed the section of suits he stood next to. Many were in mustard yellows and lima bean greens that had been in fashion for only a year before quickly falling out of market. Not many people could wear such colors, and it had really only been because of a foreign dignitary arriving with such colors that it had really kicked off. Combing through several mismatched pairings, including several golden jackets, Charles found a complete suit with a jacket that was the palest blue he had ever seen, practically white. It had beautiful golden embroidery along the edges, and long tails. The pants were a darker midnight blue, with a single line of gold up the sides. Charles loved it. It even looked like it would fit him. How much could this wonder be? It must have been placed here by mistake.

“Did this one catch your eye, deary?” An older woman suddenly asked, making Charles jump out of his skin.

“Oh! Oh... I'm just looking, ma'am.” Charles smiled. Something about the wicked grin the old lady had seemed very familiar, but Charles couldn't place it.

“I think it's even in your size. Why don't you try it on?” The woman urged. Charles hesitated. He really should not even be in the shop with his step-family around, let alone trying things on. Charles glanced at his stepsister, who was still sorting through vividly pink dresses.

“Oh, go on, I'll distract her.” The old woman winked and pushed Charles into a dressing room. Charles felt far too grimy for such a suit, and stood there awkwardly as the woman walked toward his step-sister.

“My dear! I have just the dress for you.” Charles heard the old woman call to Angel. Charles watched the woman lead Angel back towards lighter pink dress with a lot of frills, conveniently out of eyesight of where Charles was standing. Charles glanced down at the suit in his hands, and sighed.

_I don't supposed I'll have another opportunity to try anything on otherwise._ Charles pulled the curtain back and started to change into the fine outfit. As he changed, he focused his mind to where Angel stood with the old woman, discussing some of the dresses in the store. Apparently they were excitedly chatting over a rather pretty dress made out of layer upon layer of tulle in a lily pink that perfectly matched the undertones of Angel's skin. It would be a good fit for the overall fairy theme Angel was set upon as well, especially once Angel displayed her wings.

Charles look at himself in the smudgy, old mirror within the dressing room. The suit did look rather good on him, although he did not have any sort of comparison for it, having never worn such a thing in his adult life. Charles considered the rather pitiful amount of money he had stowed away since he was a child, and did not think he could afford such a thing, even at a discounted price. A child's savings was nothing in the face of today's markets, and it was not like he could simply ask for access to his father's account. Charles made a face, picturing just how poorly that conversation would go. Charles took off the suit and changed into his regular clothes before he had the chance of falling in love with it. Truth be told, he did love it. But it was easier to distance himself from it when it was on it's hanger. He feels Angel walking towards the front counter, undoubtedly to purchase the frilly dress she had been looking at. Leaving the dressing room, Charles put the suit back where he found it. He did like it a lot, but it just was not reasonable for him to get attached to it.

_I'm not going to the ball anyhow,_ he assured himself, _I really don't need a suit. I'll be staying at home, in my own little corner, in my own little chair. While everyone else has a marvelous time._

Well, maybe he was feeling a bit salty about his step-mother not wanting him to go to the ball. Although Charles was still feeling confused as to why he was feeling like this, when his memory flashed him the smile of that charming stranger he had met in the market a week ago.

_Ah._ Charles smiled to himself, now understanding his feelings. He just wanted to see that man again. Walking down toward the front of the shop, Charles smiled to himself.

_He wouldn't be at the ball anyway. Just because it said everyone was invited doesn't mean he would show up anyhow. He's probably married or lives in the next town or has some kind of horrible disease ---_

“Did it not fit?” The old woman surprised Charles again, this time appearing seemingly out of nowhere in front of him.

“It's not that, I just couldn't possibly... it's such a nice..” Charles sighed, not wanting to explain to someone he did not know the kind of situation he was in with his step-family. The old woman smiled and handed him a bag.

“You forgot this back there, don't want you to get in trouble with the little miss.” The woman winked at him and walked back down an isle, humming to herself. Charles had thought he had grabbed everything but it did not surprise him that there was so many bags in his collection for this family. Charles peaked into the bag and his eyes widened. The woman had given him the suit. There was a note attached:

_Don't even think about leaving this here. This one was meant for you._

There was a little drawing of a fairy at the bottom, just a little figure with wings and a wand. Glancing back to where the old woman had walked, Charles could not find her to even dispute the issue.

“Charles! Let's go.” Angel called for him, holding out the bag for her new dress, clearly intending for him to carry it. Charles obediently took the bag from her, pausing a moment before following her out of the shop, honestly assuming he would be jumped by another attendant for stealing the suit from their stock, but no one appeared to be approaching him. Charles smiled. Maybe he would be going to the ball.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Erik had been successfully avoiding his escort through town for at least an hour now. Logan had insisted on it, citing some agreement that had been made between Logan and Erik's mother a long time ago. It did not matter, Erik had certainly escaped his escorts before and they were used to just waiting up for him at this point. He made his way through the crowd, dodging several carts on his way towards the fountain. Erik was sure that he had seen the man he had bumped in to last week, and was determined to find him again. He was having a hard time remembering the man's name, it had been several days of meeting dignitaries and representatives of other kingdoms leading up to this ball, to be fair. Erik had been dragged along to every meeting, with princes and princesses, young lords and ladies, all shoved in front of him in case they caught his fancy. He was not interested. He could not stop thinking about that boy from the market, and his clear blue eyes. Erik felt himself blush and felt a bit silly for getting flustered over someone he had met for only an instant.

Standing near the fountain, Erik placed his hands on his hips and looked around. At least from the center of town he had a chance at spotting the man again. He looked all around the carts, the food shops, the blacksmith, and was just turning his head away from a second hand clothing store when his eye spotted a mop of brown hair. Erik smiled. The man had a lot of bags, none of which appeared to be anything he had purchased. The young woman he was tailing behind seemed to be in charge of this particular shopping venture, her head held high as she walked confidently on towards another store. Erik contemplated approaching the man, it did not seem that his rather abrasive step-mother was with him, but Erik could not be sure.

As if on cue, the woman stepped out of a nearby shop, followed closely behind by the other young man Erik had seen with the group the other day. They were now all talking to each other and gesturing for the young man Erik had his eye on to take their newly acquired packages. Who was this boy? He did not seem like a servant, his posture was far too assertive when speaking to the family. And he was clearly related to the woman at least, considering that Erik remembered him calling her step-mother. Erik scrunched his face at the woman, trying to place her in his memory of town halls and court sessions.

The group appeared to agree on the next shop to enter, an accessories store near by. As they filtered in, the step-mother halts the young man carrying everything and clearly holds her hand up, telling him to stay outside of the building. Erik decided did not like this woman. The young man, looking a bit put out, walked past the building and settled on to a bench where he could put the many bags and boxes down near him. Erik considered approaching him, now that he was alone and would most likely be for a few minutes at least, when a hand landed on his shoulder.

“Is there a reason you're wandering off by yourself?” Logans familiar voice grumbled behind him. Erik rolled his eyes.

“If only to give you pleasure in finding me.” Erik turned to face him, but kept his gaze on the boy on the bench.

“I don't see why you can't keep at least one guard with you, even if it isn't me.” Logan folded his arms and fiddled with a cigar. Erik smiled at him.

“And where did you get that? You know my mother hates them.”

“Well, she isn't here.” Logan puffed the smoke in Erik's face, and he let out a huff of amusement. Erik wiggled his fingers at him and pulled on the metal chain around Logan's neck playfully. Logan smacked his hand away.

“So, you're not the only one bending the rules today.” Looking back at the bench he was distressed to find a familiar looking man talking to the boy. Far from talking, actually, clearly flirting. The man already had the other's hand in his and was pressing his lips to the back of it.

“I got them from Azazel, who you seem to have spotted.” Logan nodded towards Erik's gaze. “What's with the face? You know Azazel is a flirt.”

“Nothing.” Erik lied. But his face betrayed him when a peel of laughter came from the man on the bench as Azazel laughed along with him. Logan smiled at him knowingly.

“You know, everyone was invited to that ball tomorrow.”

“I don't know what you mean.” Erik attempted to avoid the subject but considering that he continued to stare a hole through the back of Azazel's head, he was not very convincing.

“I mean, if that boy over there that you've got your eyes on is interested, he'll show.” Logan took a drag of his cigar as Erik's face turned a nice shade of pink.

“I have no interest in him.”

“And I'm a donkey's ass. Have you even met the boy?” When Logan was met with silence he pushed Erik's shoulder lightly.

“Last week.”

“Is he why you've been coming to town every day?” The deepening blush on Erik's face was a clear yes as far as Logan was concerned, as well as the scowl it turned into as Azazel pressed another kiss to the boys hand in farewell. Erik rolled his eyes again and looked at Logan.

“What of it?”

“Do you want me to talk to your mother? I know she's got that list that she shoves into your face of possible suitors.”

“In every waking moment that she can.” Erik laughed, and paused before saying, “Do you think she'd listen?” Logan patted him on the shoulder.

“I'll figure something out. At the very least, I can ask Azazel to lay off. Maybe Prince Charming over there likes you too.” Erik turned his head so fast he almost snapped his neck. The man was looking over at him from the bench, with a small smile on his face. 

 


End file.
